This Is Not An Ultimatum
by HecateA
Summary: Ever since their child was hurt, Hope Lupin has felt her soulmate slipping away. But ever since she became a mother, her soulmate isn't the most important thing in her world anymore. Oneshot. Written for Romance Awareness Day 27: The last words your soulmate will ever say to you are written on you.


**Author's Note: **Enjoy! Written for 31 Days of Soulmate AUs Day 27: The last words your soulmate will ever say to you are written on you.

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

**Hogwarts: **Assignment #3, Magical Law and Governance Task #8, Write about outdated ideals.

**Warnings: **Family falling apart.

* * *

**Stacked with: **MC4A; Hogwarts; Harmony of Souls Eternal; Not Commonwealth

**Individual Challenge(s): **More Than England; Brush; Seeds; Minerva's Migraine; Old Shoes; Location, Location, Location; Themes & Things A (Family); Themes & Things B (Protection); Themes & Things C (Blanket); Tiny Terror; True Colours; Rian-Russo Inversion; Short Jog; Yellow Ribbon; Yellow Ribbon Redux

**Representation(s): **Soulmate AU; Muggle Hope Howell; werewolf Remus Lupin

**Bonus Challenge(s): **Lyre Liar; Second Verse (Persistence Still); Chorus (Wabi Sabi)

**Tertiary Bonus Challenge(s): **Sanctuary

**Word Count: **2169

* * *

**This is Not an Ultimatum **

_My darling, my sweetheart,_

_I am in your sway,_

_Two cold climbs, come spring time_

_So let me hear you say, my love_

_I am gonna stand my ground, they rise to me and I'll blow them down_

_I am gonna stand my ground, they rise to me and I'll blow them down_

_'Cause I am gonna stand my ground _

_You rise to me and I'll blow you down_

—Rise to Me, The Decemberists

It wasn't that Lyall was disappointed that his wife was still awake when he crept into the house, it was just that it would have been simpler had everyone been asleep. But Hope was in the living room, not quite facing the door but it was definitely in her line of sight as she sat on the rocking chair, rocking gently back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Sitting on her lap was Remus, whose head was resting on her chest and whose tiny hand was wound in her sweater, clutching her protectively.

"Hello, love," Lyall said.

"Hello," she said quietly. She rocked back and forth again, holding Remus close. He saw, on her forearm, the words "_I'll see you later" _in straightforward yet elegant script_. _Quite generic, as far as soulmates went. When he and Hope had married and she'd shown him the mark, the last words her soulmate would ever tell her, he'd been quite pleased with it, actually. If his last words to her were a simple daily greeting, his chances to live a nice long life before quietly dying in his sleep looked rather good. The words around his ankles seemed to match: _Good night. _That's how they'd finished every evening since that conversation, reinforcing the bond that the universe had given them. If they'd fought, Hope would tell him "_sweet dreams" _or mutter something in Welsh instead.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he said.

"Okay," Hope said quietly. She rocked some more. They had gotten that rocking chair when she'd first been pregnant with Remus. Hope had worked as a nurse in a Muggle hospital, and she insisted that she had no idea how to put a baby to rest or convince a colicky child to take a bottle without the rocking chairs that littered the maternity unit she worked on.

"It was a long day," he added. "There were poltergeists in England…"

"I said okay," Hope said. He realized that she looked tired. He wondered if she'd been waiting up for him… Her hair was packed on the top of her head in the simple twist she threw it in before going into work or before a day of chores.

He swallowed hard. "How's Remus?"

"He's alright now," Hope said. The 'now' lingered before she spoke again. "He's been having nightmares again."

Lyall sighed. "Did you try giving him the sleeping draught the Healers gave us?"

She blinked and took a deep breath before answering again.

"We ran out two days ago, Lyall," she said. "You were supposed to go to the apothecary's to get more."

"Right," Lyall said. He patted his pockets absent-mindedly. "As… as it turns out you need a prescription for that particular drought..."

"Then you should get one for him," Hope said. "Lyall, he was kicking in his sleep, screaming... It's obvious what he was dreaming of."

"It's not that easy to—to get a prescription or a diagnosis for something like…" Lyall trailed off.

"Like what?" Hope asked. "Lycanthrope?"

Lyall chewed her lip.

"It's not like a normal Muggle illness," he tried to explain.

"Sure it is," Hope said. "People contract it. People suffer. People live with it. There are things that can be done to make it bearable."

"In Wizarding society…" Lyall tried to explain again.

"I really don't care about wizarding society," Hope said, interrupting him. It was as if the pockets under her eyes darkened as she spoke, before Lyall's eye. "Wizarding society doesn't matter right now. Our son is unwell—that's the only thing that matters. If everyone tells me that his condition is truly chronic, fine. But there are still things that we can do to make his life worth living. Quite frankly, I'm not sure that anybody would question you for renewing a prescription for a sleeping drought if you told them your four-year-old child had night terrors that woke him up screaming, kept him up for hours on end, and made a daily schedule impossible. They wouldn't give it to you if you didn't ask, however."

Lyall hesitated.

"You didn't try, did you?" Hope asked quietly.

"It's complicated, Hope…" he tried.

"Except that it isn't," Hope snapped. Lyall recoiled—Hope had grown up raising a slew of siblings and tending to baby sheep and calves, had gone straight into nursing school on a scholarship, and taught music at Sunday school on a weekly basis. He could count the number of times he had seen her angry on one hand.

"I've done everything that _I _can," Hope said. "Muggle sleeping medication doesn't work, our pain medication doesn't help. _You're _the wizard. _You're _up."

"I'll go tomorrow," he promised.

"Does that mean he'll see you?" Hope asked. "Remus?"

"I might have to leave early again," Lyall said. "This poltergeist epidemic…"

"Will really be solved by that extra four hours of work you put in which conveniently block out the evening before your son goes to bed—or before we try to get him to sleep, anyways," Hope said coolly.

"Hope, I _have _to work," Lyall said.

"Of course," she said. "But… nevermind."

"Say what you were going to say," Lyall said.

"I was going to remind you that you also have to be a father and a husband too," she said. "You made a vow to me. And it was more subtle, but you made a promise to Remus, by bringing him into this world with me, to take care of him."

"I am," Lyall said.

"How do you know?" Hope said. "When's the last time you spent time with him outside of sitting at a kitchen table with him for twenty minutes, chewing in silence?"

"I can't help it if work's been busy," he repeated.

"You've made yourself busy," Hope said. "Ever since the last moon when he scratched himself and got that scar across his eye, you've found ways to avoid him. There. I said it. You made me talk, is that what you wanted to hear?"

Lyall took a deep breath. "Hope, you don't understand…"

"You keep saying that but I still don't know what I'm missing," she said with a sigh.

"You don't understand what it's like for a wizard to have a werewolf in the… to be associated with…"

"Associated?" Hope said. "He's not a business partner, Lyall, he's your son. My God..."

She got up, holding the little boy against her. She cradled his head as if he was still a baby.

"You can be ashamed of what you did to bring Greyback upon our son if you want," Hope said evenly. She paused. "Actually, Lyall, you _should _be ashamed of it. But you do not get to be ashamed of your child. He's our son and he's sick, he's just sick and he's still Remus. I don't know how many times I've asked you to do something, _anything, _but I can't keep playing this game with you."

His mouth felt dry. "I'm… I'm not."

"Well you have a funny way of showing it," Hope said. "Except it's not funny, it's sad. Incredibly sad. And I don't care what my vow to you was, this little boy gets all my love and all my patience now. So I need you to step up. Own up to what happened. Own us, own our family."

"I'll go tomorrow," Lyall promised. "To get him his sleeping drought."

"During your lunch break," Hope said. "So that we still see you in the morning and have you for supper. You have no idea how happy that would make him…"

"I'll see what I can do." Lyall said. "For now, it's… We shouldn't even be talking about this right now, it's late and we might wake him up."

"Fine," Hope said quietly.

"I'll see you later," he said, hoping that their habitual greetings could restore some normalcy to the situation.

"Good night," Hope said. Encouraged by her playing along, Lyall offered her a smile before going off to bed. Hope didn't follow; she sat down on the rocking chair again, holding the little boy in her arms.

* * *

The next morning, Lyall woke up at sunrise by force of habit—that's when he'd been waking up for the last few weeks, after all. He looked to his right and saw that Hope had made it to bed after all, though she hadn't changed out of her sweater or taken her hair out of its twist.

He swung his leg out of bed and wondered what he would do in this house, awake and waiting until the rest of them woke up as well. The thought was suffocating, and so he got up and started fumbling around in the dark to find his work clothes. He crept out to the bathroom to brush his teeth and comb his hair before coming back in to find his bag.

Hope had shifted in bed. She looked distant and half-awake, but he was as sure as he could be in the dark that her eyes were following him.

"I'm going in," he explained quietly. "But I'll stop by the apothecary on my way home, I promise."

Hope didn't answer. He kissed her forehead.

"I'll see you later," he said.

Hope rolled over in bed to face away from him and drew the covers up some more. Even if she was awake, he was as gentle as possible when he closed the door behind himself.

Two doors down in the hall, he stopped in front of Remus' room. His door was decorated with pictures that he'd drawn in preschool and with a painted name plate they'd gotten as a gift when he'd been born. Gently, Lyall cracked the door open. The glow of his night light illuminated the room faintly. He saw Remus curled up in his little bed, clutching a blanket. He had his back to the door and Hope had put him to bed without his pajama top, which meant that Lyall had a clear view of his injured, torn-up, and scarring back. He had seen his son's injuries multiple times now but they never looked less painful than the first time he had rushed the little boy to St. Mungo's, knowing already that there would be nothing to be done…

He crept closer and kissed Remus' fluffy brown hair, the same chestnut and lightness as his mother, before leaving the room again. The exhausted little boy did not stir and Lyall made his way back out.

* * *

When Lyall came home at 5:37 p.m., a number he knew because he'd checked his watch the entire journey home to make sure he'd be on time, the door was locked. Strange, but perhaps this meant that Hope had brought Remus to the park or had run out of something for dinner and made a quick trip to the grocer's. He slipped the paper bag containing the potion he'd been sent to fetch in his bag to free up his hands and reach for his keys.

It was only when he unlocked the door and looked into the living room to see the rocking chair missing that he… well, he realized that something was wrong.

"Hope?" he called. "Remus?"

He stepped into the living room and looked around. Aside from the rocking chair, the knitting project Hope had been leaving at her spot on the sofa was gone. The plastic train set Remus liked to play with in front of the fireplace was gone. Her books from nursing school had been plucked off the bookshelf, as had the Muggle fairy tale books she liked reading to Remus.

"Hope?" he called again.

He made his way into the kitchen which seemed untouched, aside from Hope's favourite mug which usually sat by the kettle waiting for its next use. He looked at the fridge where a note that wasn't covered in Remus' crayon fantasies and whimsies had been pinned.

_We are safe and staying with one of my sisters who has extra room since her divorce. I brought her a cawl as a thank you and there's some in the oven that you can have for your supper._

_You can come find us when you're ready to fight for us. Don't come before then. This is not an ultimatum, this is just the truth. I can't wait any longer for you to make a decision about where you stand when it's hurting Remus. He needs his father like I need my husband, or we need to know that it's the two of us against the world. Both are fine, but this waiting for tomorrow isn't. _

_See you later, maybe. _

_-Hope _


End file.
